I know I’m forgetting something …
So, I’m prepping for a run. I’ll have a piece of toast and a glass of water pretty soon. I’ve already changed into running clothes, and my mp3 player is charging.
I’ll be thinking about what to write when I get back.
Seminary this morning was really good. Moses was a really wonderful man. Sure, he wasn’t perfect. But he was dang close.
I used feel really self-conscious when people asked me if I served a mission. Whenever I told them no, I could feel them judging me. Maybe that’s why I’m not as spiritual as I could be. Yes, I already know you’re better than me; you don’t have to rub in my face by reminding me that I didn’t serve a mission. The instant I said “no” I felt vulnerable, condemned, extremely insecure. I felt less righteous, had a lesser hand in knowing the mysteries of God.
I learned to get over it, or at least change the subject or ask turn the question back to those people. If you don’t know or haven’t noticed, (most) returned missionaries really like talking about their missions. They learn so much; they meet awesome people; they come back seemingly transformed. I like those stories. Amazing and wonderful things happen to real people. They find themselves, they really come to know God; they help others with those processes. It seems like a very rewarding experience. I know already, you have one-up on me.
Someone at church asked me on Sunday. I could see the wheels turning in her noggin, and I’m always so paranoid. What could these people possibly be thinking?
But then, someone else put it all in perspective for me. She asked if I served a mission and I said no, and luckily I was on the phone so she couldn’t see me shifting uncomfortably. Then she said, “I can usually look at a congregation and be able to tell who served a mission. I would have pegged you for serving one. You seem to have it together and have a depth of spirituality that people who have been on missions have.” She more or less expressed she was impressed I didn’t have to serve a mission to look like I served one.
Well, that’s something to consider.
20 minutes, and I’m pounding the pavement.